


Ring Out, Wild Bells

by TheGreenFaery



Category: Bleach
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Multi, Other, Reindeer, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, The SWA "Book Club", Wine, mildly threatening housework
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenFaery/pseuds/TheGreenFaery
Summary: In the latest episode: Yumichika tries to dish the dirt.We now have The Very Unofficial Soundtrack to This Very Unofficial Christmas Story curated especially for your auditory delectation!Go to open.spotify.com/playlist/5xUxqSc3xSNuCJ57oqlFK2 for the whole Hallmark Christmas Not-A-Movie experience.Warning and disclaimer: I own precisely none of the musical efforts included. I do, however, have terrible taste in music. Listen at your own risk.
Relationships: Abarai Renji/Kuchiki Rukia
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	1. Come What May

**Author's Note:**

  * For [polynya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/polynya/gifts).



> Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,  
> The flying cloud, the frosty light:  
> The year is dying in the night;  
> Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
> 
> Ring out the old, ring in the new,  
> Ring, happy bells, across the snow:  
> The year is going, let him go;  
> Ring out the false, ring in the true.
> 
> Ring out the grief that saps the mind  
> For those that here we see no more;  
> Ring out the feud of rich and poor,  
> Ring in redress to all mankind.
> 
> Ring out a slowly dying cause,  
> And ancient forms of party strife;  
> Ring in the nobler modes of life,  
> With sweeter manners, purer laws.
> 
> Ring out the want, the care, the sin,  
> The faithless coldness of the times;  
> Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes  
> But ring the fuller minstrel in.
> 
> Ring out false pride in place and blood,  
> The civic slander and the spite;  
> Ring in the love of truth and right,  
> Ring in the common love of good.
> 
> Ring out old shapes of foul disease;  
> Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;  
> Ring out the thousand wars of old,  
> Ring in the thousand years of peace.
> 
> Ring in the valiant man and free,  
> The larger heart, the kindlier hand;  
> Ring out the darkness of the land,  
> Ring in the Christ that is to be.
> 
> \- Alfred, Lord Tennyson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Rukia begins her search, she wonders what else lies in wait.

Rukia had been staring at the message for the best part of twenty minutes. It was hardly the greatest example of written communication, but after twelve days of countless drafts she knew she’d never be happy with it. The cursor hovered over the send button as she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and clicked.

She opened her eyes and exhaled slowly before slumping back in the chair. She stirred only when the waitress settled her dairy-free coffee coconut frappé down next to the laptop. “Thanks,” she uttered quietly, offering a small smile, but the waitress had already gone, gliding silently to her next customer in the bustling café.

Rukia’s gaze fell on two young women at a corner table. Between them, they had four preschool age toddlers and a tiny, gurgling new-born. She watched them wistfully as they gushed over the diamond sparkling on the blonde’s left hand as the darker haired woman gently rocked a pram, her two elder sons squabbling over a packet of crayons and colouring books. She half wondered what it would have been like to pick a fight with her brother over something as silly as crayons.

_“I’m not your brother.”_

The closest they’d ever come to fighting was still imprinted in her memory. It was quite possibly the longest conversation they’d ever shared. At the time, she didn’t fully comprehend the weight of his words. She did now. Cold and disdainful, he’d spent most of the past twenty years pretending she simply didn’t exist. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it sounded. At least she didn’t have to put the effort in trying to maintain any sort of relationship with him, especially now he was on the other side of the country.

She sipped at her frappé, enjoying its chill in the torrid late August. Given the choice, she’d much rather be a thousand miles north and surrounded by snow all year round. Alas, she was very much in Sacramento and suffering in the heat.

Not for much longer, though. Not with any luck.

Her luck, however, depended on the response to the message she’d just sent. Her hopes and fears were cavorting in turmoil. A positive answer meant breaking the news to her Dad, which was nerve-wracking in itself. Maybe she’d receive nothing at all. That was okay. She was prepared for that. She could still head north. She had the funds to do so. She had the smarts and the qualifications to find work. Maybe she could move to Canada.

She picked absentmindedly at the cuticle of her left thumb. It wasn’t quite Berkeley, but Toronto was a good university. They had a post-grad programme for environmental sciences. British Columbia, too. Both would be acceptable, even to Byakuya’s exacting standards. He might like to act as though she didn’t exist, but heaven help her should she ever bring shame to the family name by attending a sub-par university.

The greatest moment of her life was being accepted into Berkeley and seeing her brother struggle with the fact that _she_ had outperformed _him_. She would happily relive all of the anxiety of high school exams and waiting on tenterhooks for her results a hundred times over just to see his face contort with shock and envy and disbelief in equal measure once more.

That being said, she would probably also thoroughly enjoy seeing his reaction if she shacked up with some common rancher in the back end of nowhere. The more delinquent the better. Possibly covered from head to toe in tattoos with an excessive amount of facial hair.

She eyed a ridiculous looking hipster strolling past her table, with his tweed jacket, slightly too short yellow-beige trousers, loafers, and a distinct lack of socks. His face was probably home to several nesting birds judging by the unbelievably thick ginger beard and Dali-like moustache.

Maybe not the facial hair, then. The ink could stay, though.

He’d be taller than Byakuya, too. Just a smidge. Just enough to bother him, but not enough that he could remark on it. They would, of course, make the most beautiful babies, far more beautiful than anything her brother could sire, just to rub salt into the wound.

She smirked to herself as she fiddled with the stirrer in the near-empty glass mug. Whatever future lay ahead, she would face it head on and with gusto.

But for now, she would wait.

And possibly fantasise about just how far down those tattoos went.


	2. Blood from a Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya and his father have their monthly phone call.
> 
> We now have The Very Unofficial Soundtrack to This Very Unofficial Christmas Story curated especially for your auditory delectation!
> 
> Go to open.spotify.com/playlist/5xUxqSc3xSNuCJ57oqlFK2 for the whole Hallmark Christmas Not-A-Movie experience.
> 
> Warning and disclaimer: I own precisely none of the musical efforts included. I do, however, have terrible taste in music. Listen at your own risk.

Byakuya knew exactly what his father was doing, but that didn’t mean that he had to play along. One of the very few things he would credit his adopted sister with was the fact that she at least pretended for his father’s sake to do so. It was slightly concerning the way she so skilfully lied to the man she called ‘Dad’, but he hoped that she wasn’t so heartless and ungrateful for all the years of unwarranted indulgence that she would betray him in any way that mattered. Although, if she did, it would certainly vindicate his own distaste for her antics.

Case in point, she was now filling his silence from the other end of the phone by gleefully telling him about how she’d got arrested the other week for _“exercising her legal right to peaceful protest”_. Occasionally she went quiet, as though waiting for a response, before answering a question he hadn’t asked. He wondered how many bullshit phone calls she’d pretended to have over the years. He also wondered just how long his father was going to keep up the pretence of searching for a pen so that he could resume the conversation he was actually interested in holding.

His father did this a lot. Pretended to have to look for something during their monthly phone call so that he could pass the phone to Rukia in the hope that they’d engage. He used to pass the phone to Rukia after they’d said their goodbyes, only for Byakuya to immediately hang up. It was a tactic that worked well for both of them until one Sunday when Sōjun remembered something he had meant to tell Byakuya and asked Rukia for the phone back. _That_ had been an awkward conversation.

Whilst waiting for his father’s return, Byakuya watched his girlfriend from the kitchen as she pottered back and forth with a duster. He did so with dispassionate boredom, although every time she inched towards his office his jaw tensed and his left hand flexed. He was sure she was doing it on purpose.

They did that a lot these days. Irritated each other. Sometimes it was even intentional. Not that they ever said anything. Sometimes he wondered why she was even here. He suspected it was more due to the inconvenience of moving out than any real desire to stay. He could understand that. Perhaps a little too well. But still they remained, constantly on eggshells and nearly always in silence.

“Byakuya? Are you there?” Sōjun asked concerned.

Byakuya broke from his reverie, “Hmm? Oh, yes. Sorry, I…”

“Are you busy? We can do this another time.”

“No, no. No, it’s fine.” Byakuya grimaced at the thought of another unnecessary phone call. He admired his Dad, respected him without question, but these calls could be painful beyond measure.

“Right, well… Thanksgiving-.”

“Dad, it’s _August_.”

“I am aware of that, Byakuya, but we-.”

“- You mean Rukia,” Byakuya interrupted again.

Sōjun sighed heavily, “Yes, Rukia had some input in the matter, but both your grandfather and I think that a change of scenery would be nice.”

Byakuya frowned, “What do you mean ‘a change of scenery’?”

Even the unflappable Sōjun was beginning to sound exasperated. “Byakuya, have you listened to a single word of this conversation?” His son didn’t answer. “As I was saying, we were thinking about spending the holidays in Montana.”

“Montana,” Byakuya intoned flatly. This _reeked_ of Rukia.

“Yes!” Sōjun perked up, “Lake Rukon County, up in the north. There’s a place called Pine Ranch. I’ve already made some enquiries, and I just wanted to know if Tia would be joining us.”

Byakuya pinched his nose. Lake Rukon County was home to a well-known conservation area and of key interest to certain lobbyist groups. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the proposed fracking site, does it?” Of course it did. Why else would Rukia want to go there?

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on, Dad. You know full well what I mean. She’s already been arrested twice this year for, I don’t know, chaining herself to a tree.”

“Arrested twice and let go both times without charge! Byakuya, you really should give your sister more credit. She’s fighting for what she believes in.”

_She’s not my sister_ , Byakuya thought bitterly, but didn’t dare voice his objection.

“Anyway, that’s beside the point,” his father continued, undeterred, “Will Tia be coming?”

“No.” Byakuya didn’t even hesitate, despite his automatic gut reaction of annoyance at hearing Rukia groan at the mention of his partner’s name. He’d drag Tia along kicking and screaming just to piss Rukia off if the thought of putting up with both of them at the same time didn’t fill him with an insurmountable dread.

“Oh.” Byakuya could hear the cogs turning in his father’s brain. “Have you two already made plans? Because that’s alright if you’re-.”

“No.”

Sōjun hesitated, “Son, are you two alright?” Sometimes trying to glean information from him was like trying to get blood from a stone.

Byakuya exhaled slowly through his nose. “Everything’s fine, Dad.” His father made a noise that made it quite clear that he wasn’t convinced but wasn’t going to argue with him. “I’m just tired.” _Of everything_.

“As long as you’re sure?”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

Sōjun chuckled softly, “You may be a brilliant lawyer, Son, but you’re a shit liar.” Byakuya snorted in response. “And we’ll be seeing you in Montana?”

He looked up and caught Tia’s unsmiling face watching him like a shark.

Maybe a change of scenery _would_ be good.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I have tweaked a few character names in this story to better fit my vision of them in modern day America. In this case, Tia is Tier Harribel. This is not a deliberate attempt to 'whitewash' characters, but rather to diversify them. Tia is in and of itself a Spanish/ Portuguese name, fitting in with my vision of her being of Spanish descent.
> 
> Rukia doesn't have any real grudge or dislike of Tia, she just thinks that she's really boring at parties and has terrible taste in men.


	3. The SWA Book Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seireitei's finest turn sleuths as the hint of gossip comes to town.
> 
> We now have The Very Unofficial Soundtrack to This Very Unofficial Christmas Story curated especially for your auditory delectation!
> 
> Go to open.spotify.com/playlist/5xUxqSc3xSNuCJ57oqlFK2 for the whole Hallmark Christmas Not-A-Movie experience.
> 
> Warning and disclaimer: I own precisely none of the musical efforts included. I do, however, have terrible taste in music. Listen at your own risk.

It was the first Thursday of the month which meant three things: the Seireitei Women’s Association book club, three hours of sordid tales of debauchery, and very little discussion about literature (they had been ‘reading’ the same Jodi Picoult book for the past four months and were still were none the wiser as to what the book was even about). This month also brought with it copious amounts of tissues, wine, and chocolate as Rangiku’s relationship with Gin was back on the rocks.

The general consensus was that he was punching well above his weight and that she should tell him to go and stick it. Dr Unohana had even gone so far as to offer to arrange an urgent medical appointment for him with a horrifyingly graphic description of just what she was going to do with that thermometer once he was in the consultation room. It would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so obvious that she meant every single word.

Also offering their skills were Yoruichi and Suì-Fēng. Although they were being somewhat cryptic in their wording, as far Nanao could tell, they were devising a plan of kidnapping, blackmail and torture. Again, this speculation would have been hilarious if, as experienced bounty hunters with military backgrounds, it wasn’t well within their capabilities. Not that anybody knew for sure what their military service had entailed. All that was certain was the fact that the pair were scarily efficient at their job.

Once upon a time Nanao would have tried desperately to keep the meeting on track, but she had long ago learned that it was a hopeless task even without the real-life drama and alcohol consumption. Although the book club regularly ran over their allotted three hours, it had never been a source of irritation or consternation to the softly spoken shopkeeper. On the contrary, she seemed to enjoy the entertainment, possibly the company, too, even though she never actually joined them. Tonight, however, she was distracted. Nanao noticed her looking up to the clock before glancing at her phone several times.

Nanao wasn’t the only one.

“Is she alright?” Koko muttered out of the corner of her mouth. The pair watched as she was almost startled by the alarm on the oven, like she had completely forgotten about the umpteen trays of macarons she had just put in there in preparation for the morning.

The slightly younger waitress, an extraordinarily pretty ginger-haired girl with a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks and warm brown eyes, leant over conspiratorially and whispered, “I think she’s in love.”

Nanao’s eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. Koko was equally surprised. “Really? Who?” Her brows furrowed slightly and her voice fell low, aghast, “Not Kenny, surely?”

Nanao nearly choked at the thought whilst Orihime giggled. “No, no.” She looked around to make sure her manager wasn’t nearby to hear. “I don’t think he’s from around here. She got a message the other day, and several more since. She’s been like this all week.”

“A message? What? Like on a _dating app_?” Nanao could hardly believe it. “Does she even know what a dating app is?”

Orihime offered a one-shouldered shrug as she loaded her tray with used crockery. “She won’t say.” A dreamy look descended upon her face. “I hope he’s nice; she deserves it.” She slammed the tray down on the table with a clatter. “A prince!” she declared. “She deserves a- Oh.” She blushed furiously as a cup smashed to the floor. “Oops.”

As if by magic, her employer was at her side in an instant, with a kind smile and cleaning cloth in hand. “It’s alright, sweetie, I’ll take care of this. You’ve had a long day, you can finish up now if you like.”

Orihime frantically shook her head and waved her hands in protest, “Oh, no! It’s okay. I’m okay. It just… slipped?”

Fearing slightly for the welfare of her best china in the hands of her loveable but clumsy employee, yet unable to say no to those puppy dog eyes, Hisana came up with a slightly novel solution. “Well, if you’re sure, how about you finish up the macarons?”

Orihime’s eyes widened to seemingly impossible proportions. “Really?” she asked giddily, “You’ll let me do that?”

Hisana glanced over her shoulder. “You know what to do, don’t you?”

Orihime’s face took on a fiercely determined expression as her hands balled into fists, before indicating each direction with the appropriate number of fingers. “One: Pipe chocolate around the edge of the macaron shell. Two: Fill the centre with raspberry jam. Three: Sandwich with another shell.”

Hisana beamed at her. “And then?”

She thought hard for a few seconds before the answer came. “Four: Leave to rest overnight in the fridge because it’s tiring work being a dessert!”

“And there you have it, ladies,” Hisana said to the group around the table, “A macaron expert in the making!” She continued clearing away cups and plates and glasses, before noticing Orihime still stood there, as if waiting for permission. “Off you go, then.”

Orihime stood rigidly to attention and saluted, “Sir, yes Sir!” before marching off to the kitchen. Dessert, after all, was serious business.

Momentarily distracted from her woes, Rangiku squealed with delight, “She so cute! Hisana, how can you stand it?” She sighed deeply and rested her chin on her hand, pouting. “I still can’t believe she came to _you_ for a job and not me.”

Hisana gave a tinkling laugh. “She’s seen what working for you has done to Tōshirō, poor boy. Nineteen years old and he’s already gone grey.”

“Plus you pay more,” Momo chirped cheerfully to Rangiku’s left.

“And she doesn’t have to put up with _that_ riff-raff,” Suì-Fēng added.

Rangiku clutched at her impressive bosom as though wounded and cried indignantly, “I’ll have you lot know that we run a highly respectable establishment. The Sheriff drinks there!”

Lisa, the aforementioned Sheriff’s second-in-command, burst out laughing.

Nanao, the long-suffering town clerk pushed her glasses smartly up her nose and commented dryly, “If you think for one second that Shunsui Kyōraku is going to help your case, you are sorely mistaken.”

Rangiku looked very much like she wanted to argue with that, but found that she simply couldn’t. “Pah! Some friends you are.” She began looking around. “Where’s the wine?”

“Gone,” Suì-Fēng said bluntly.

“Gone?!” Rangiku shrieked, “That was a whole case!”

“On a school night, too,” Momo said solemnly, peering sadly into her empty glass.

Rangiku groaned as she slumped and made to lay across the table, only to be impeded by her extraordinarily large bust. Moping, she whispered to nobody in particular, “Oh God, I have a _problem_.”

Hisana began patting her shoulder, “Shhh,” she cooed. “There’s some double chocolate fudge cake left, if that wou-.” She stopped sharp as a low buzzing emitted from her pocket. “One minute.” Hastily excusing herself, Hisana disappeared into the back.

A few seconds later, Orihime reappeared from the kitchen having been evicted by her manager.

The group stared at the door as it slammed shut.

Koko sat upright, looking pointedly at Nanao, as every inch of her proud Blackfoot features declared, “Definitely a man.”

“But who?” Momo asked, mystified.

Orihime, who was busy licking remnants of chocolate filling off of her fingers, suddenly realised that they were all looking to her for answers. “Hmm? Oh, I don’t know anything. I just work here.”

A collective sigh echoed around the room. Hisana was the sort of person who, kind and convivial as she was, had a tremendously easy time of getting people to talk. She probably had enough dirty gossip stored away to blackmail each and every single resident of the small Montana town of Seireitei several times over. But no one could relay anything remotely personal about her.

“What we need,” Yoruichi pondered aloud, “is inside information.”

Seconds passed before the women all came to the same conclusion, and as one they chorused, “Renji!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Koko, as some of you may have guessed, is Miyako. She is of native Niitsitapi heritage and her name means 'night'. 
> 
> I should add that, yes, Rangiku owns the local bar and, yes, 19 year old Toshiro works for her. I am aware that Montana does not allow for the sale of alcohol to those under 21. He washes the dishes, he does not serve alcohol. He definitely wishes he could drink it, though. He needs it.
> 
> Oh, and look out for the next instalment. It should, hopefully, come with 'The Very Unofficial Soundtrack to This Very Unofficial Christmas Story'.


	4. Three Wise Monkeys and a Whole Herd of Reindeer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renji has everything under control.
> 
> We now have The Very Unofficial Soundtrack to This Very Unofficial Christmas Story curated especially for your auditory delectation!
> 
> Go to open.spotify.com/playlist/5xUxqSc3xSNuCJ57oqlFK2 for the whole Hallmark Christmas Not-A-Movie experience.
> 
> Warning and disclaimer: I own precisely none of the musical efforts included. I do, however, have terrible taste in music. Listen at your own risk.

Two men perched on the recently installed split rail fencing as a third leant nonchalantly against a post. All were watching the palaver before them with great interest, occasionally interjecting with their own helpful insights. Insights such as, “The other one’s getting away again!” or, “To your left! LEFT! No! Not that-. THE _OTHER_ LEFT!”

Iba, a leather jacketed man with dark slicked-back hair, even darker sunglasses, and a cigarette hanging from his mouth, muttered to his companions, “How long do you think he’ll keep this up?”

Rather than answer, the man sat next to him, a heavily scarred and bare-chested skinhead, guffawed loudly as the object of their entertainment fell flat on his face after being both tripped up and head-butted by two of the twelve reindeer he was trying to wrangle into a pen in preparation for the vet’s visit.

The third man, the one who remained standing, snorted disdainfully. “One of you _could_ go and help him, you know,” he suggested airily to the others.

“Che,” Sunukkuhkau grunted, “Where’s the fun in that?”

“ _You_ could go if you’re that worried, Yumichika,” Iba countered.

Yumichika shot him with the most contemptuous side-eye he could muster. “First of all, I have just had a manicure and it’s another two weeks before they can fit me in again. And secondly,” he indicated to his burnt orange turtleneck jumper, “ _this_ is the finest cashmere. I am not ruining it for the sake of your amusement. Besides, looks like help is just arriving.” 

Lo and behold, a small dark-haired figure could be seen from across the paddock rattling two large buckets of carrots and calling to the small herd in a high pitched voice that almost whistled across the wind. Almost instantly, the creatures trampled over Renji and jostled into the pen eagerly awaiting their crunchy treat. The onlookers howled with mirth.

Renji couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad, he was just grateful he didn’t have to tackle the beasts anymore. Clambering to his feet, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Mornin’, ‘Sana.”

Hisana tried her best to not laugh at her oldest and dearest friend, with his mud-smeared face, crimson hair sticking up at odd angles, and multiple hoof prints marking his clothing. “Good morning,” she said lightly.

“You didn’t have to come,” Renji told her as he slammed the latch shut on the pen. “It was all under control.”

Hisana raised a single eyebrow at him. “Looks like it.” She cocked her head at him, “Why didn’t you just bribe them with carrots?”

Renji crossed his arms haughtily across his chest and stuck his nose up in the air. “I refuse to negotiate with terrorists.” He reached over the metal railing and swatted one on its hind leg. “And they’re getting fat.” The reindeer responded by kicking back and snorting grumpily at him, waving his antlers threateningly.

“Aww! No wonder they’re mad at you!” Hisana cried. One of them nuzzled her affectionately as she scratched below his ears. “You’re not fat, are you? You’re just cuddly.”

Renji rolled his eyes and made a noise not too dissimilar to a grizzly reindeer.

“I see the three wise monkeys are being as helpful as ever,” Hisana said as she glanced over at the leering goons.

“It’s just as well,” Renji sighed. “This lot are getting fractious now it’s coming into mating season. Sunukkuhkau would probably end up losing an eye.”

Hisana scoffed at the thought. “By the way, I’ve left a couple of books on the side in the kitchen.”

“Oh?” Renji looked at her, puzzled, as he stretched and attempted to straighten his attire.

“We _finally_ got the delivery of ‘War Between the Oak and the River’. Thought you’d like first dibs.”

Renji’s eyes lit up. “Really?! Aw, thanks!”

Hisana dodged his outstretched arms and batted away his hands as he tried to ruffle her hair. “I’m going back to work in a minute, you idiot. Get off!”

“What’s the other one?”

“Oh, err, a book on motorcycle maintenance.”

Renji scrunched up his face in confusion. “But… Hisagi’s the one with the bike…”

“Yes, yes,” Hisana said. “Hisagi is the one who _owns_ the bike. Hisagi is the one who _crashes_ the bike. _You’re_ the one who… umm… _fixes_ it?”

He scowled down at her. “I’ll have you know that the exhaust only fell off twice last week, and neither time was my fault.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She waved away his complaint and started to walk away, calling back to him, “I’ll see you later.”

Renji had already turned his attention back to his cervids and was trying to retrieve the now empty buckets without being pronged in the face. He was largely unsuccessful. He glared at Wilbur, the bull responsible for the antler in his ear. “Did you want to get made into burgers? Because this is how you get made into burgers.”

Wilbur harrumphed at him, before staring dolefully at Hisana’s retreating back.

“Give it up, mate. She’s out of your league.”

He huffed and pawed moodily at the ground.

Renji laughed, “You’ve got a whole harem here! What more did you want?”

Wilbur, and several of his cows, perked up at the question and snuffled hopefully at the buckets.

“No. No more carrots!”

Unimpressed, Wilbur turned his back on his owner and farted.

Renji threw up his hands in disgust and marched off to the three idiots heckling him in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunukkuhkau is Ikkaku. Sunukkuhkau is an Algonquian name that means 'he crushes'. He is Cree. In this story, his head actually is shaven. The scarring down the left side of his body comes, not from Ichigo, but from nearly being mangled in agricultural machinery after getting his hair caught in it. He would never admit this aloud, but the reason he shaves his hair off is because he is terrified of this happening again.
> 
> The book Hisana brings Renji (War Between the Oak and the River), harks back to Polynya's Between Tides. If you haven't read this, STOP. STOP READING THIS NONSENSE AND GO AND READ HER WORK. ALL OF IT. She is my queen and hero.


	5. Rumours and Ruminations

“OI!” Renji barked at Iba and Yumichika as he stomped across the dewy grass. “Don’t you two have anything better to do? And _you_ ,” he said, rounding on Sunukkuhkau, “why aren’t you in the orchard?”

Sunukkuhkau stretched out his arms before resting his hands on the back of his head, splayed fingers interlocking. “Didn’t feel like it.”

Renji spluttered, “Didn’t..? Didn’t _feel like it_?” He cuffed Sunukkuhkau upside his head. “What do I pay you for, eh?”

Sunukkuhkau sneered at him, “You don’t half the time.”

“You don’t _work_ half the time!” Iba and Yumichika sniggered whilst Sunukkuhkau rolled his eyes. Renji glowered at them before turning sharply back to his layabout employee. “Where’s Kitchi?”

Completely unfazed, Sunukkuhkau yawned widely as he scratched at his ear. “The orchard?” he half-shrugged.

“You left him there by himself?”

“Chyaa, kid’s doing _fine_. He’s picking apples, not building a nuclear bomb.”

Renji gaped at him. “Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself. He was about to walk away when something occurred to him. “Don’t tell me you left him up the cherry picker.”

“Yeah, why?” Sunukkuhkau drawled.

“On his own?”

Sunukkuhkau was busy running his tongue along his teeth, trying to pick out something that was stuck between his lower canine and premolar. Probably corn. “Hmm? Nyeh, Hanatarō’s there,” he grunted.

Renji sighed, shaking his head. “Right, well, if you don’t want to go picking apples, you can go and clean the chicken coops.”

Sunukkuhkau fell off the fence. “What? No!”

“ _And_ sort the turkeys out.”

“Nope!”

Renji lifted his shoulders high and spread his arms wide as he started towards the stables, “Your choice!”

Sunukkuhkau was left aghast in his wake. “Friggin’ slave driver. Who’d’ve thought he’d turn into _that_?” he grumbled as he heaved himself to his feet.

“Oh! And you two,” Renji called back, pointing at Iba and Yumichika. “You two can piss off!”

Iba thumped Sunukkuhkau on the back, gave a half wave and left. He had his own stuff to do and, like it or not, lounging around and heckling his friends wasn’t going to stop his mother complaining about him. Yumichika, however, trailed after Renji.

“What do you want?” Renji asked, bending to pick up a shovel resting against the wall of the stable.

“Actually, I’ve been sent here on a mission,” he replied haughtily, grimacing at the thought of what that shovel was used for.

Renji cocked a tattooed eyebrow at him, intrigued. “Oh?”

“To see if the news is true.”

Renji was only half-listening and barely acknowledged the comment. Instead, he gave a piercing whistle and a large, lolloping bloodhound cross came bounding from the porch of his cabin. Yumichika automatically crossed his arms and hid his hands up his sleeves to prevent any drooling affection messing up his perfectly manicured nails.

“So?” Yumichika asked imperiously, tapping his foot impatiently. “Is it?”

Renji stared at him, nonplussed. “What?”

“Is it true that a certain little bird has entered the grown up world of _dating_?” Yumichika’s eyes were bright with the anticipation of salacious gossip.

Renji blinked.

He frowned.

He blinked again.

He looked at Dave, his faithful canine companion who was looking incredibly undignified trying to scratch his enormous, floppy ear with an equally enormous paw, his jowls wobbling in the effort.

He looked at Yumichika.

He burst out laughing. “You _are_ kidding? Where on earth did you get _that_ idea from?”

Yumichika’s brows furrowed and he pursed his lips. “Is it such a strange thing? Even if she does have appalling taste in hairdressers, she isn’t displeasing to the eye.”

Renji rolled his eyes, “She wouldn’t go to Charlotte if you didn’t charge twice as much.” It wasn’t a _complete_ lie.

“I only charge twice as much because my work is twice as good,” he answered tartly. “Besides, that doesn’t answer my question.” Yumichika watched from the doorway as Renji ignored him and began shovelling muck from the stable stalls. “Personally, I think it’s a good thing she’s putting herself out there. I just thought that it might be a good idea to find out who it is so that we can warn them before Kenny finds out…” He trailed off, allowing the comment to hang as he stared nonchalantly across the paddocks.

Renji paused in his labour, and looked over his shoulder, frowning. “Why’d’ya say that?”

Yumichika shrugged and glanced at him askew. “You know what he’s like.”

Renji absolutely did. Kenny was the excessively overprotective older brother where Hisana was concerned. “But she’s not seeing anyone!”

“And you’re certain of that?”

“Well, she’s not _said_ anything.”

Yumichiki shot him a withering stare.

“What?!”

Clearing his throat, Yumichika asked blithely, “And you tell her of all of your exploits?”

“That’s diff’rent,” Renji said defensively.

“Oh?”

Renji struggled to find the right words, “I’m…”

“Stud-muffin extraordinaire?” Yumichika began listing possible explanations, counting them on his fingers.

Renji snorted. “I’m…”

“A raging hypocrite?”

“I’m…”

“Full of shit?”

“No, I-.”

“Just smell like it,” Yumichika sniped.

Tongue in his cheek, Renji pointedly flipped his friend off, but remained silent. Maybe he had a point. On all counts. He tried to surreptitiously sniff under the collar of his plaid shirt.

Yumichika wrinkled his nose and made a noise of disgust, causing Renji to flush with heated embarrassment. “Just because some of us have to actually _work_ for a living,” he griped.

Suddenly, Dave’s ears pricked up as he caught sight of a mouse darting about in the hay, and he lunged past Renji with a gruff, booming bark, leaving a trail of slobber running down his owner’s arm. “Eurgh. Thanks, mate.” Before he could do anything, his dog was rolling about in the horse muck. “Oh for-. _David_!” Giving it up as a bad job, Renji left him to join Yumichika in the doorway. Or at least he would have if Yumichika didn’t take an equal number of steps away from him to avoid the stench.

Renji laughed. “How on _earth_ do you cope living with Sunukkuhkau?”

He smiled slyly, “Do you really want to know?”

One look at that devilish glint in Yumichika’s eye told Renji that no, no he really didn’t. “Nah, I’m good, thanks.” He paused briefly before continuing. “I _would_ like to know, however, how you got this idea that Hisana’s… you know…”

Yumichika looked at him oddly. “It was the book club the other night.”

Renji let his head fall forward as he groaned loudly, “You’re not seriously telling me you’re actually paying attention to Rangiku’s gossip now, are you?”

“It’s not just Rangiku. It’s everyone who was there. Renji, she kicked Orihime out of the kitchen to take a call!”

Renji scrunched up his face and threw his hands up in the air, incredulous. “She runs a business! Phone calls don’t mean anything!”

“On her _personal mobile_. She slammed the door shut on everyone.”

Renji stopped short. That was… not like Hisana. “Are you sure?”

Yumichika shrugged, “That’s what Nanao said.”

“Nanao?!” Besides Hisana, she was the last person Renji would have expected to spread unsubstantiated rumours about anyone, let alone her own friends. “But who could it be?”

Yumichika shot him a pained look of disbelief.

“Oh. Right. That’s why you’re here.” Renji fell silent as his mind raced through all the possibilities, only to catch himself. “Oi! Turning me into one of your gossipy little shrews! Go back to your salon for that,” he grumbled. Wasn’t that another reason Hisana didn’t go to Yumichika? The constant dread that you were only ever two snips away from being next week’s rumour mill fodder. She hated being the centre of attention at the best of times, much less as the subject for unfounded blather and idle chatter. And yet, here he was doing just that.

“Oh, _come on_ , Abarai. Like you’re not dying to know who could possibly tempt her down from her solitary little nest,” Yumichika cajoled.

Renji flashed him a sharp look of irritation.

"Alright," Yumichika drawled, before turning his back and walking away, leaving Renji to his thoughts. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

That wasn’t the point. If Hisana had something to tell him, she would tell him.

Wouldn’t she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kitchi is Rikichi, who is Algonquin (indigenous to Eastern Canada). His name means 'brave'.


End file.
